


Take a Paws for Love

by queenhomeslice



Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [26]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 101 dalmations elements kinda, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Chubby Reader, Crush at First Sight, Cunnilingus, Curvy Reader, DBZ references, Dog Dad Prompto, Dogs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Meet-Cute, Photographer Prompto Argentum, Vaginal Sex, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: You're at the park with your four-legged friend, when a chance encounter leads to you a hot blond with a furry friend of his own.____I've been working on this for two days. Honestly I just wanted to see Prompto with a big white doggo.ALSO this is WAY self-inserty because a black French bulldog named Vegeta is literally my dream animal, so sue me. Let me have this, dammit.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554340
Comments: 28
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> AND, because of the Dragonball Z reference, this disclaimer, just to be safe: I do not own the rights to, nor am I affiliated with, Dragonball, Dragonball Z, Dragonball GT, Dragonball Super; or any affiliated Dragonball manga, anime, videogame, or other media or trademarked content. All rights belong to Akira Toriyama, Toei Animation, and Bird Studios. I do not own any characters and I am not making money from this.

“Okay boy, this looks like a good spot!” Prompto sings as he tugs on Biggs’ leash, and of course, the 100-pound ball of fluff follows, woofing in acquiescence. They’re at the far end of the massive park in the middle of Insomnia, enjoying the warm spring weather. Prompto’s loaded up with his camera and tripod and some doggy costumes in his backpack—the deadline for the “Cutest Dog in Insomnia” contest is a week away, and the prize is a year subscription to DogBox—and dammit, Biggums deserves a monthly supply of chew toys and treats, and Prompto’s determined to win it for him. 

He whistles at his fluffy white friend, undoes his leash and sticks it in his back pocket; the dog sits obediently while Prompto fiddles with his equipment. He takes a small dog bone from his jeans pocket and whoops at Biggums, who poses—Prompto tosses the bone to him and the dog snatches it, chewing down the treat in three gulps. “Good boy!” calls Prompto as he reviews the pictures and changes the settings. “Okay, Biggs, stand—” Biggums stands on his hind legs and balances while Prompto snaps a few more shots, tossing another bone to the dog as he whistles. Biggs drops to all fours and wolfs down the bone, tail wagging furiously at the positive reinforcement. 

“I think time for some upshots, whaddaya think, buddy?” 

Biggums woofs at Prompto and wags his tail even harder. 

“I think so too! Who’s my pretty boy? _You_ are!” Prompto coos as he takes his camera off of the tripod and lies down on the grass in front of Biggums. “Okay, Biggums—roll over...” Prompto calls out poses while Biggums follows orders, happily taking another bone from Prompto’s stash in his back jeans pocket. 

“Okay, I think now it’s time for some outfits...” Prompto mutters to himself as he lies on the grass, scrolling through the pictures while Biggums gobbles up his treat. He’s just about to get up and dig in his backpack for the badass skull-print bandana; when out of nowhere, Prompto suddenly feels the weight of a small animal crashing into him—but before he can turn around to see what is happily clawing at his back, he’s hearing a flustered woman behind him, and he feels the four-legged friend being lifted and chastised. 

“Vegeta! What have I told you about jumping on people you don’t know?” 

There’s a sort of low whine in response from the dog, but Prompto is temporarily stuck on the Dragonball Z reference. He scrambles up, camera in hand, and turns—and his jaw hits the grass. 

______ 

You’re holding your black French bulldog in your arms, heart pounding from having to chase him halfway across the lawn where you’d been playing fetch. You’d seen the slender blond and his large white dog—maybe a Great Pyrenees?—out of the corner of your eye while you were tossing a tennis ball at Vegeta, and honestly, yeah, you’d probably stared a little too long for comfort. If there was one thing you found attractive, it was the love of a pet, and the way that the man across the park was playing and interacting with his dog was just too damn adorable for words. 

But now that you’re up close and personal with the man and his dog, you’re stunned and speechless—gods, the man is fucking _hot_. Blond hair that’s styled like the back end of a chocobo, making you want to run your fingers through it. Sun-kissed freckled skin that makes you want to trace constellations across his nose and upper cheeks and shoulders. Red, slightly chapped lips that make you want to kiss them better. Chiseled arms that make you wonder if he’s strong enough to hold you up against a wall while... 

You realize that you’re staring, and probably blushing, while your mischievous wiggling Frenchie is clasped in your arms. You swallow hard and attempt to form words. “Uh, hi, uh. I’m sorry about Vegeta here, he gets a little excited sometimes, especially when people lie down...I hope he didn’t hurt you too badly...?” You bite your lip as you stare at the red-faced man, trying desperately not to drown in his violet-blue eyes. 

The blond seems to snap out of his own trance and awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “Oh, uh, no, no! Not at all, he’s okay, I get it. Biggs has his moments, too,” he laughs, nodding at the big white dog. He worries at his bottom lip, like he’s super nervous. 

It’s so cute, even though you’re just as awkward and as shy as he is. You swallow hard, determined to make conversation with this gorgeous stranger. You adjust your messenger bag and scuff your feet on the grass. “Uh, Biggs? That’s a cute name. He's gorgeous. What breed?” 

“Oh, uh, thanks! He just got groomed yesterday, so you’re seeing him pretty fresh. Usually he’s covered in mud,” the blond laughs, and it’s a high, darling sound that you find yourself getting drunk on. “And, uh, um...” He fidgets with the expensive-looking camera in his hands. “He’s a Pyrenees, a rescue. I’ve had him for about four years.” 

“Aw, that’s so cool! Vegeta here is a rescue too, the little rascal.” Vegeta wiggles in your arms and licks your face, making you laugh. 

The blond laughs again. “That’s, uh. You like Dragonball?” 

“Dude, it’s one of my favorites of all time.” 

“Yeah, yeah, me too! Um...” His voice trails, as if he’s unsure of how to continue. 

You nod at the camera. “You’re a photographer?” 

That seems to spark him back to life. His eyes light up as he looks from you to the camera in his hands. You find yourself gazing a little too intently at his long, deft fingers, watching as he brings back up his most recent pictures of his dog. 

“I, uh. Biggums and I...” 

“Wait, wait,” you interrupt, giggling. “His full name is Biggums?” 

“Uh, yeah!” He laughs loudly. “It’s pretty dumb, I know, but he’s just so big and heavy...and it’s kind of cute, I thought, so...Biggums! Biggs for short, heh...” 

_He’s not the only one who’s cute,_ you think but don’t say. “No, that’s the cutest name I’ve ever heard in my life. Sorry, to uh, interrupt...” 

“No, no!” He waves his one free hand. “I, uh, yeah! I’m mostly a hobby photographer, but uh, I do weddings and pet pictures and stuff like that. I’ve even had a few contracts with the Citadel for events. Ugh, _that’s_ a lot of NDA’s and privacy paperwork, let me tell you. But it’s still pretty cool.” 

“Wow, you must be really good to be the official cameraman for a royal gala.” 

The blond chuckles again as he swipes through pictures of Biggums, getting to older pictures of the dog (and himself) just doing goofy stuff around his house. “Life hack for that—be kiiiinda best friends with the prince,” he sings. 

You stare at his profile in awe. “Wait—you’re serious?” 

“Ah, yeah! Noct and I went to the same high school. We’ve been friends since then. He’s a pretty chill guy.” 

“Dude, that’s seriously so cool.” Maybe you’re imagining it, but his cheeks flush even redder than they were before. “Your pictures of Biggums are really good. It’s great weather for outdoor photography.” 

The blond exits from the slideshow back to the blank screen. “Yeah, there’s a _Cutest Dog_ contest from DogBox. It’s city-wide, so realistically I know Biggs has a long shot, but I really want to win a year subscription. So I thought I’d pair my professional skills with Biggums’ awesome training. Wanna watch? Unless, I mean, you and Vegeta had other plans...” 

Vegeta has long quit resisting your embrace—in fact, the dog is all tuckered out, drooling on your shoulder. “Well, looks like the tennis ball did him in,” you chuckle. “Sure, I’d love to watch you work.” 

Biggums woofs in agreement and you move to sit a little ways behind the blond—you're so awkward that you realize you haven’t even asked his name—to watch him work (and if you get a nice view of his ass in his tight animal-print jeans, well, that’s just a bonus). He digs around in the large backpack and brings out a bandana, tying it around Biggums. He whistles and orders the dog into various poses, tossing him a chewable bone when he’s done. 

There’s about five outfits in total—a mock necktie, a bumble-bee costume, a superhero cape and mask, the bandana, and finally, a shiny space suit paired with an antenna headband, making the big white dog look like an alien. You laugh as the man switches Biggums between outfits, always whistling and giving clear commands, motioning with his hands, and reinforcing the poses with little dog bones. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been single for forever, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s so cute and has a cute dog, to boot—but you find yourself crushing super _mega_ hard on this attractive stranger. 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s so hard to put yourself out there, though—dating has been mostly disastrous for you, with some guys treating your body like a fetish, and others not willing to hold hands with you in public but willing to fuck you in private. You exhale long and slow, just wishing you could be treated normal and worthy despite being heavy. You hold your breath as you watch the blond man work, wondering if you’re strong enough to face rejection from someone so hot. At best, though, you might gain a new friend, and Vegeta has always loved playing with other dogs. As the man finishes up his photos and undresses Biggums, he turns to you, his wide smile competeing with the sun itself. 

Vegeta is awake again and wiggling, desperately straining and whining—champing at the bit to go over and greet Biggums. You smile shyly at the man, nodding to the big white ball of fluff. “Is Biggums friendly?” 

“Huh?” He looks at his pet, then back at you. “Oh! Oh, yeah, sure! You can let Vegeta go, if you want.” 

You unclip Vegeta’s leash and let your bratty Frenchie waddle over to Biggums, whose tail looks as though it could propel him into the sky. After sniffing each other, the dogs begin to woof happily, playing and wrestling with each other under the shade of the big oak tree. The man gasps in delight and squats, capturing them on camera. You swallow nervously, determined to try and take this meeting a little further. 

“Hey, uh. Sorry. I didn’t get your name?” 

You hear the man choke a little and swallow hard, and he flushes red again to the tips of his ears. “Oh, uh. It’s, uh. Prompto. Prompto Argentum.” 

“Prompto,” you repeat slowly, loving how his name rolls from your tongue. “I’m _________ ___________.” 

Prompto stares into your eyes as he says your name, licking his pink lips. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so kissable, and your resolve is slowly crumbling, despite your anxiety and self-deprecating thoughts. Prompto’s been nothing but friendly—and nervous—throughout this whole encounter... maybe it would actually work. You look down at your bare legs—it's pretty warm today, so you’re wearing shorts and a slightly-oversized crop top with matching yellow sneakers. Finding some small confidence in avoiding eye contact, you fiddle with Vegeta’s leash as you choose your next words carefully. 

“Hey, uh. I know this is kinda awkward, but...would you want to go get lunch? Or some coffee or something.” Your heart is beating wildly, and you regret it as soon as you vocalize the suggestion. It’s just a random meeting—your self-sabotage is astounding even you. You chance a glance back up at the dogs, who are still rolling around playfully with each other—and finally back to Prompto. 

Prompto’s jaw is hanging open for the second time during your encounter. He’s bright red and fidgeting, voice small as he says, “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

You laugh—classic defense mechanism—and shake your head. “Ah, I, uh, forget I said anything. Sorry, I was being stupid...” Of course. How could someone like him be into fat girls? 

“No—” Prompto reaches out and takes your hand, causing Vegeta’s leash to slip to the soft grass. “No, you’re not stupid. Um...” He looks away. “I’m sorry, I’m so awkward around pretty girls,” he mutters. “Um, I would, yes. Like to go eat. Or coffee. Or...whatever you want.” He glances back at you, violet-blue gaze wide and slightly terrified. 

Still reeling from the fact that he called you _pretty_ with no hint of sarcasm or malice, you nod. “Okay, uh. There’s a food truck I really like that’s parked a few blocks away. Their Instagram said they’d be there till eight tonight.” 

Prompto nods. “Yeah, uh, yeah. That’s good. Outdoors, perfect for the dogs.” 

You smile and look at Vegeta and Biggums. “And they seem to be getting along just fine, too.” 

After Prompto backs up his camera and dog costumes into his backpack, he walks with you out of the park and into the shopping district of downtown. The dogs are having a wild time walking side-by-side on their leashes; you and Prompto have graduated to holding hands, easing a little more into conversation, just chatting about anything and everything. The two of you arrive at the food truck and Prompto offers to pay, handing Biggums to you so that you can find a seat at one of the outdoor tables. He orders two large bowls of street noodles—your absolute favorite. 

“So,” he says, downing the last of his bubble tea that he’d ordered with his meal. “You, uh. Wanna continue this date? Or, if you have stuff to do, I mean, it’s okay, um.” 

Gods, he’s still terribly awkward and about as nervous as you are—it's so damn cute. You shake your head, smiling, giggling like some crushing schoolgirl. “No, I don’t have anywhere to be.” 

Prompto nods, exhaling in relief. “Okay cool. Uh. Wanna get out of the sun for a while? I can feel my shoulders starting to fry.” 

It’s true—Prompto’s wearing a black sleeveless shirt, and his shoulders are looking a smidge more ruddy than when you first ran into him in the park. “Okay, sure. What did you have in mind?” 

Prompto gulps, fidgets with the leather bracelets on his wrists. “Um, uh. My townhouse? There’s a yard for the dogs, and uh, we can chill and play games, if you want, maybe watch a movie...?” 

You gasp softly. Either this is moving in a direction you desperately want, or he’s a deceptively cute serial killer. “Okay,” you say, nodding slowly. “Um. I’m gonna text a couple of girlfriends, and turn on my location sharing. Is that cool?” 

Prompto sputters in agreement. “Dude, totally! I’m sorry—I'm not used to doing this—if you’re not comfortable, we can keep it public, uh, maybe meet up some other time without the dogs, or...” 

“No, I trust you, for the moment. It’s just, y’know, girls can’t be too careful.” 

“Do you want to take a selfie to send to your friends?” asks Prompto. He whistles to Biggums, and Prompto grunts loudly as the big white dog climbs into his lap. 

You chuckle and pick Vegeta up from where he’d been dozing under your chair, snuggling him to your chest. You dig your phone out of your pocket with one free hand, holding it up high, getting a clear picture of you, Prompto, and your pets. Sending it to a group chat, with your location on, you set Vegeta on the pavement and pick up your trash. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Prompto smiles wide and gorgeous. “I’m happy that you trust me. I trust you, too.” 

Prompto slides open the back door, letting Biggums off of his leash. You unhook Vegeta’s leash and let the fidgety Frenchie run after Biggums. Prompto slides the glass door shut, turning. He lets his backpack slump into the barstool by the kitchen, and gazes at you with a wide-eyed expression. 

“Um, wow,” he chuckles, doing that adorably awkward neck rub again. “Been a long time since I had a girl in the house. Um. So...what do you feel like doing?” 

_Fuck it,_ you think as you set your messenger bag on his kitchen bar, grabbing his sinfully tight shirt and yanking him forward, pressing your lips to his. 

Prompto gasps and melts into you like fucking butter. His strong arms immediately encircle you, pulling you flush against his lean body. He lets you set the pace of the kiss—he's shaking as you pull soft gasps from his lips. You were right—he's _very_ kissable. Your hands dance to his upper arms and squeeze—fuck, he’s so solid and strong beneath your chubby hands. As you rub his arms and deepen the kiss, letting your tongue taste every inch of him, Prompto suddenly moans, very loudly. 

It’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard, and it makes your stomach do about a million backflips. Heat surges south, and you feel yourself start to get wet. You pull away, leaving Prompto breathless and panting. 

“To answer your question,” you whisper in his ear, nipping his earbud, “I feel like doing _you_.” 

Prompto whines as you suck a mark into the base of his neck, licking his sweat-slicked skin as he comes apart beneath you. He’s gripping your wide, plush hips hard enough to bruise, and the thought excites you more than you’d care to admit. You drop your right hand from his bicep and snake it down his torso, teasing at the hem of his sleeveless tank and letting your fingers dance along his bare skin and the hemline of his tight jeans. 

“__________,” he groans. “Oh, _fuck...”_

You smirk to yourself as you tease lower, finally cupping the growing bulge between his slender thighs. 

Prompto bites back a ridiculously loud cry and bucks into your hand, throwing his head back against the wall with a loud _thud_. 

“We gonna have sex in the kitchen, or...?” 

“ _No_ ,” Prompto growls, the first confident thing he’s said all day. He tilts his head down, looking at you with a wickedly hungry gaze. Bending at the knees, he slides his hands under your ass and _lifts,_ prompting you to wrap your thick thighs around his lean waist. 

“Oh, _shit_ ,” is all you can muster, ducking your head against his neck and peppering it with kisses. “Fuck, Prompto, you’re so _strong_...” 

“No sweat,” he whispers in your ear as he carries you effortlessly through the living room and _up the stairs,_ flicking on the hallway light and turning left into his bedroom. 

He sets you on the bed gently, like you’re a sacred prize to be worshipped and treasured. He plants his hands on either side of your head, dipping down for a kiss and rolling his hips against one of your thighs, moaning softly at the friction. 

“Prompto,” you sigh as he pulls away to rest his forehead onto yours. You squeeze your eyes shut against the onslaught of tears. 

“Hey, _________, what’s wrong?” He cups your soft, chubby cheek in one of his hands. 

You lean into it, sniffing hard. “Nothing’s wrong, I just...” You exhale. “You, uh. You held hands with me in public.” 

“That was okay?” 

“It’s just...more than I’m used to.” You open your watery eyes to gaze at his beautiful freckled face. “My body. It doesn’t...bother you?” 

Prompto’s face twists into a slight frown. “Bother me? Why would it bother me? You’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. Like _ever_ ever.” 

You sniff. “I’m fat.” 

Prompto nods. “And you’re also gorgeous. Two true things.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead. 

Biting your bottom lip, you reach up to run your fingers through his hair like you’ve been wanting to do all afternoon. Prompto groans, leaning into your touch, like a big needy dog. It’s short-lived, however, before he’s moving his head away and kissing the palm of your hand. 

“Sorry,” he laughs nervously. “That feels great—amazing. But I think I might die if I don’t get inside of you.” 

“Shit, okay, yeah, _yes,_ ” you gasp, wiggling your thick hips. 

Prompto blushes a deep red and nods, sitting up on his haunches to peel off his shirt. 

It’s hard to know where to look first as Prompto’s creamy skin is laid bare before your eyes. As with his arms, his chest and abs are well-defined and solid, planes of lean muscle littered with freckles, lower hips and the dip of his pelvis snaking with silver-white stretchmarks. A tantalizing strip of blond hair runs from his navel to beneath his jeans, where the bulge between his legs has grown thicker with arousal. 

“Gods, fuck, you’re so hot,” you whine as you stare at him. “How?” 

Prompto laughs and shakes his head, climbing from the bed so he can climb out of his knee-high black boots; pants; and underwear. He looks at you as he peels his tight coeurl-print jeans down, lifting an angled eyebrow. “Uh,” he says. “It’s nice to be ogled, but um. You’re way overdressed.” 

“Oh, uh...right.” Here it is, the moment of truth—Prompto's attracted to you now, but with clothes on...will he still want you once they’re off? Avoiding his gaze, you strip as quickly as you can, putting your clothes and shoes in a neat pile on the floor at the foot of the bed. When you look up, Prompto’s stark naked, just like you, all sinewy muscle and pale freckled skin, thick cock jutting out and bobbing between his thighs. 

“Um,” is all you can say, helplessly looking at him. “Fuck. I’m dying. You’re so hot.” 

“Me?!” shrieks Prompto incredulously. “You look like...” he shakes his head. “I don’t even have words. C’mere.” 

You scoot back on the large king bed, parting your thick thighs so Prompto can settle between them. You allow him to touch and kiss everywhere—your chest, where he spends a ridiculous amount of time sucking and pinching your sensitive nipples; your jiggly tummy, where he licks and kisses along every stretch mark and random patch of hair; your wide hips, which he squeezes with his oh-so-talented fingers. Every move he makes, every mark that he leaves on your skin, leaves you warm and wet and gasping for air. You’re near tears from the overstimulation and he hasn’t even been _inside_ of you yet. You feel worshipped and loved—not a fetish, not an embarrassment to be fucked in secret—Prompto is mapping out every spare inch of your body like he’s starved for it. 

When Prompto’s tongue dips between your folds, it’s all you can do to sling one arm over your eyes and grip the sheets with your free hand. 

“You taste so good,” he sighs breathlessly, petting your hip as he noses your coarse pubic hair. 

When is the last time you’d been eaten out? Months? Years? Either way, you know you’re not going to last. 

“Grip my hair,” Prompto commands as you whine and wiggle underneath him. 

You obey and Prompto slides those strong arms under your ass and drags you forward, holding you to him as though he’s glued to your pussy. Although he’d been so shy and awkward at the park, he eats you out like he’s getting paid for it, like he does it all the time. As he licks and sucks at your clit, burying his whole face in your pussy, nosing at your core, you feel yourself speeding like a bullet train towards your climax. You roll your hips and thrust up against his face, gripping his hair like a vice, which only seems to spur him on more. Before you realize what’s happening, you feel yourself spilling over the edge, pleasure and white-hot sparks surging through you as Prompto pulls his face away and inserts two of those beautiful fingers into you, pumping hard as you whine and writhe against him. 

Boneless and sated, you crack open an eye to see Prompto wordlessly ripping open a condom and rolling it on, stroking himself from tip to base a few times before walking on his knees, grabbing your ankles and resting them on his broad shoulders. 

“Ready,” he asks, face still slick with your juices. 

All you can do is nod and gaze in wonder at this beautiful stranger as he pushes his iron-hard cock into you, inch by tantalizing inch, until he’s flush against your ass, biting his lip so hard you think it might bleed. 

He groans low and primal, leaning over you to plaster wet kisses all over your face and mouth. The smell of you on his face is intoxicating; you cup his sharp jaw in one hand and catch his pretty pink lips between yours as he begins to move. 

“Gods, fuck, you feel so good around me,” he whines, slender hips pounding mercilessly into you. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t believe I get to have you like this...” 

How is this guy even _real?_ Prompto’s literally one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen, and yet he’s above you, flushed and bare, acting like _you’re_ the gift? Unbelievable. You shake your head. “Fuck, Prompto, I...fuck you’re making me feel so good! Please, please baby...” 

He ducks his head and groans. “Gods I wish I could feel all of you...you feel so wet and open for me...so hot...” He leans down to kiss you again, not even slowing his pace, hell-bent on chasing his release. 

The sex is unlike anything you’ve ever had before. He’s an assault on all five senses, his high-pitched whines and breathless moans of your name lodging themselves in the deepest parts of your brain. The fact that he’s safe only adds to the appeal—the fact that he more than consented to having his picture taken to send to your friends, the way he offered a public option...yeah, he’s one of the good ones, you can tell. Determined not to let this be a one-time thing, you sniff back happy tears and continue to kiss him. 

Prompto pulls back from you a minute later, gasping hard, hips stuttering in their messy rhythm. “Oh, shit, _________, I’m close, I’m so close...” 

“Yes,” is all you can gasp out, holding onto Prompto’s solid arms. “C’mon, Prompto, come for me, please, please you’re beautiful, please...” 

“Shit— _fuck—__ _________!” He screams with a desperate cry, heavy cock throbbing and spilling into the condom. He stays buried for another long minute as he jerks his hips slowly, not wanting to leave your warmth. Finally, though, he pulls away, lifting himself carefully from you and standing on shaky legs on the floor, peeling the condom from his softening length and tying it, tossing it in the sleek wooden trash can by the door. He flops on the bed next to you and gathers you in his arms, holding you as you both doze off in a sticky, satisfied sleep. 

_The next day..._

You’re out for a walk with Vegeta around your neighborhood, nothing on you except your spare apartment key, your phone, and some cash in case you decide to stop for a snack or some coffee. You round the corner while looking at your phone, not really paying attention, when you suddenly smack into a solid object in front of you. 

The object stumbles forward with an _Oof_ that has a familiar ring to it—looking up while rubbing your hurt face, it’s Prompto who turns around. Biggums yips happily beside him, tail going a mile a minute as he and Vegeta lick and sniff at each other. 

“I must have a target on my back,” Prompto laughs. “ _Cute things, land here._ First it’s Vegeta here, and now you!” 

You giggle as he pulls you into a warm, crushing hug, pulling away only to kiss you hungrily. “Hm, well, to be fair—it's a pretty cute back. I can’t help it. I like cute things. So it’s only natural to land on you.” 

Prompto blushes and laughs, threading his fingers through yours as the four of you continue down the sidewalk, laughing—and barking—like it’s just meant to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading! Pls comment and kudo, I spent a lot of time on this one. ;-;

**Author's Note:**

> pls comment and kudo, I've worked on this a lot ;-;


End file.
